


This Shot Will Be My Last

by ishie



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, 2010, Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Community: apocalyptothon, Crossover, Gen, One Shot, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/pseuds/ishie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At dawn, Buffy hopped on the back of Pike's bike and off they went, riding into the rising sun.</p><p>They made it as far as San Dimas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Shot Will Be My Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sullensiren](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sullensiren).



> Prompt: The world ends, the hunters and Slayers and the like get to pick up the pieces and figure out what went wrong. (bonus for a crossover smorgasbord!)
> 
> Written for Sullensiren for the 2010 Apocalyptothon. Set between the BtVS movie/Origin comic and the show, and about eight years pre-series for SPN, with bonus ~mystery~ crossovers listed at the end. IDEK. Hope you like it! Title from the Rolling Stones' _Sister Morphine_.
> 
> Thanks to Weasleytook for the beta and to Inkdot for always knowing the right thing to say ♥

So, let's take it from the top:

After Lothos and the dance and the gym. After all the meetings where she got yelled at by the principal, the vice-principal, the superintendent, the counselor, the second counselor after the first wouldn't _stop_ yelling, the private counselor, her mom, her dad (on the phone, natch), and who even knows how many cops and fire inspectors... After she got grounded and suspended and expelled, and her mom started looking for a new job and a new house anywhere but there, Buffy had a dream.

She dreamed of wiping out an entire vampire nest in Las Vegas. At dawn, Buffy hopped on the back of Pike's bike and off they went, riding into the rising sun.

They made it as far as San Dimas.

"Look," she said, careful to keep her voice even and not, like, completely freaked out, because who knew what kind of perverts were running around offering strange young girls rides in their ... whatevers, "it's really great that you've got this ... phone booth thingy, really, I mean, talk about handy, right? But we really should probably get back on the road."

The road wasn't her first choice. It wasn't anywhere near the top of her list. The only reason she was even standing here to suggest it was because the transmission slipped at exactly the right time, which made Pike swerve far enough out of the way that they didn't get blasted by the flying zappy lightning bolt gun thing that came out of nowhere. The rest of the shots missed them only because Pike didn't put up a fight when she climbed over him to take control of the bike and got them the hell _off_ the road as fast as Slayer-ly possible. Of course, then her fabulous plan fizzled into nothing, which was how they wound up taking shelter with these weirdos, who were probably going to try to wear her skin or something gross like that.

Anyway.

The dark-haired guy squinted at her like he wasn't sure what her words meant, then shook his head and grinned. "Did I forget to say it travels in time?"

"Pfft, not since _before_, it doesn't," his friend shot back.

"Dude, shut _up_. I'm trying to score the hot jailbait, all right?" the first guy hissed, like she wasn't standing a foot away.

While they continued to squabble like she was their last late-night burrito, Pike looked like he couldn't decide whether to totally crack up or try to punch one — both? — of them.

Buffy could relate. Instead, she grabbed the back of Pike's shirt and together they shuffled backwards out of the Circle K where they'd been holed up for most of the day and through the night.

What's-his-name and his friend (Will? Phil?) didn't even notice.

\---

They fought their way north, through the roadblocks on the 5 until they ran out of silver bullets. Not like the silver bullets did anything, but at least when Pike was shooting he wasn't complaining about her doing all the driving.

They drove west through sweet, fragrant meadows and deserted little towns. In the sunshine, everything looked so normal, like there weren't huge ships hovering over Los Angeles and things she'd never dreamed of seeing before, not even in her worst nightmares.

By the time they hit the Sunnydale city limits, Buffy thought her teeth would never stop vibrating. She pulled into the parking lot of a tiny grocery store and staggered off the bike. It only took a couple of seconds for her to walk off the stiffness.

Pike, being both a guy and not a Slayer, moaned and groaned the whole time they gathered up their few possessions and pushed the bike toward the store's main entrance. He only stopped whining when they stepped inside to find a shovel and a plastic rake pointed at them.

"Seriously?" she burst out.

The girl with the rake shifted self-consciously, her eyes widening as her grip loosened. "It was all I had time to grab! If Xander hadn't—"

"Not _now_, Willow. We don't know if they're friend or foe!"

"Oh, we're totally friend, I promise." Buffy smiled sweetly at Xander and put her hands up, elbowing Pike on the way so he'd stop cradling his crotch long enough to do the same.

Xander squared his shoulders and held his shovel a little higher. "How can we be sure of that?"

"Um, because we're totally helpless? Look, no weapons!" She waved her hands over her head, hoping Pike's shirt wasn't riding up enough to show the gun tucked in his waistband. "We're like babies or something over here."

Willow smiled at her, a big sunny beam of lips and teeth and happiness that Buffy couldn't help but return. "See," she said, "they just need some place to hide. Like us!"

\---

They spent most of the afternoon twirling through the AM and FM bands on a portable radio, trying to find out if anyone was still alive out there. They caught part of a crackly broadcast — just a woman's voice repeating "fight the future" over and over, between what Willow said were coordinates for something near San Jose and pleas for information about a fox.

While Xander and Willow bickered over what they should make for dinner, Buffy spun through the dial again.

"You're going back, aren't you?" Pike asked.

"I never said that."

He shifted on the bag of half-melted ice he'd dug out of the ancient freezer at the back of the store. "Look, Buffy, even if there is a chance she's still alive, do you know what you're saying? It's gonna be ten times — a hundred times worse trying to get back into the city."

"So what? It's my _mom_. If there's only one chance in a billion, I have to go back."

He glanced down at her balled fists and the fighting stance she'd slid into without even realizing it.

"You can take the bike," he offered, his voice soft and sad.

Buffy blinked at him while her brain tried to catch up. "You're not— You're not coming with me?"

For the first time since she got to know who he really was, Pike looked like a stranger. His smile almost looked real when he finally said, "I'd just slow you down."

\---

Willow cried. Which was kind of weird since they'd only known each other for like fourteen hours, but hey. Different strokes for different folks. Or maybe it was delayed shock.

But when Buffy started packing up supplies to head out she felt that familiar scratchiness in the back of her throat that meant it was just a matter of minutes before she started bawling too.

"Are you sure you should go?" Xander asked her. He was supposed to be acting as lookout, making sure nothing tried to sneak up on them while they were distracted with loading up the bike. Intead, he was splitting his attention between her and Willow, giving them each an equal dose of his worried frown. Pike, he ignored completely. Apparently he still wasn't over finding out they were a couple.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Really sure?"

"_Really_ really."

"I guess that means you don't want me to try to talk you out of it, huh?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose at him.

Xander sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

\---

She made it as far south as Santa Maria before the horizon disappeared in a flash of light so bright it lingered behind her eyelids long after the tears stopped.

\---

Buffy didn't know how long she huddled on the side of the road, only that the sun was starting toward the horizon again when she finally stirred and pointed the bike north.

The glass front of the grocery store was shattered, the shards glittering in fading sunlight that was still strong enough to cause spots to start swimming through her field of vision again. She heaved row after row of shelves out of the way, hiccuping and wiping her dripping nose on her sleeve, only to find another patch of nothing under each one.

She wheeled the motorcycle through the debris and into the manager's office at the back of the store. It was dark and quiet, the concrete blocks chilly against her back as she curled up to wait out the night.

\---

When the sun rose, Buffy picked her way through the wreckage of the store again. She gathered up as much as she could strap on the bike, then started filling plastic grocery bags and tying them onto her backpack.

The roads were empty as she zigzagged from the coast inland to the desert and back again. She lost track of the days, then the weeks and months as she moved from town to town. She went to all the places she'd ever heard or read about in school, or in the movies or on TV, or from her parents. Squatting for a few nights here or there in this place or that, each time she rolled into a new place she hoped the roar of the engine would bring someone out of hiding.

But there was no one.

\---

It stopped being creepy pretty fast, being the only person left in California. Or the world, for all she knew. In fact, it was mostly just boring. She didn't even get to see people in her dreams, just endless dark landscapes like the ones she traveled during the day. While she was awake, she told herself stories out loud, ignoring the tiny voice that kept whispering that she was losing it, or worse: already lost.

As she drove up and down the state, while she cooked dinner over campfires and gas stoves, Buffy reminded herself of her family and friends, every single person she could dredge up out of the corners of her memory. She spent hours and hours poring over found magazines and newspapers, soaking up the pictures of celebrities and strangers, hoping that one of them would jar something loose in her head. Hoping that one of them would pop up out of those barren, pitch-black roads in her head—

And then one night, someone did.

\---

She was standing in the middle of a forest clearing, under a bright full moon. Pine needles whispered under her feet as she walked toward the boy who'd shimmered into being right before her eyes. He was tall and awkward-looking, like he'd grown faster than his body had expected and it was still playing catch-up. His hair was dark and lank, and his shirt — flannel, ew — was way too short and way too old to be anything but a hand-me-down. Double ew.

"Who are you?" he asked. His voice was deeper than she expected. The pale white skin at his wrist flashed when he reached for something tucked in his belt, but he didn't draw it out from under the shirt.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Buffy tried to circle around behind him, but he turned as she went so he was facing her the whole time. His eyes were enormous, like they took up a good two-thirds of his still-pudgy face.

Even with that weirdness, it was hard to tell if this was a prophecy dream or a regular dream. She hadn't had one of either in so long she wasn't sure that she would know the difference between them anymore.

The boy scrunched up his face. "Why would you be asking me that?"

"Uh, because this is my dream?"

He finally pulled his hand out from under his shirt to let his arm dangle at his side, his head cocked like a puppy. A long, wicked-looking silver knife glinted in the moonlight. Almost before the shape of it had even registered, Buffy was leaping across the clearing at him.

They hit the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs — his — and frustrated grunts — hers. When they came to a stop he was face-down on the ground, his arm twisted behind his back. Buffy had him pinned, with the flat of his knife at his own throat.

"Oh man," he moaned. "My brother's going to kick my _ass_."

\---

When she woke, she didn't waste any time getting her things together, just hopped on the bike and headed inland toward Yosemite.

A guy she didn't recognize stumbled out of the tent when she roared up to the campsite, bleary-eyed and half-dressed with a shotgun trained right at her head.

He grinned, slinging the shotgun up on one shoulder as he watched her swing her leg over the bike and pull off her helmet.

"Well, hel_lo_ there," he called before shouting over his shoulder. "Sammy, look sharp! We got company."

Buffy ignored him, waiting to see if it was the right kid who poked his head out of the tent.

It was. His eyes were nearly as big as in the dream, his face just as round and pudgy.

"This the brother you mentioned?" she asked. "The one who takes the whole 'big brother' thing way too seriously?"

He nodded, shooting a wary look at his brother's back. "His name's Dean. He's not so bad, really."

Buffy smiled and crossed her arms.

Dean looked between them, confused. "What the hell is going on here?"

"So," she asked Sam when the moment had stretched out long enough, "you want me to kick his ass for you? You could probably tell: I'm pretty good at that."

\---

It only took the better part of a day to convince Dean that she wasn't a demon, or a vampire, or a werewolf, or a whatever the hell the things were that came down out of the sky and destroyed everything they knew.

"I don't know," he said, lounging against the side of the car. "You sure we can trust her?"

"Of course we can! I wouldn't have— I would be able to tell if we couldn't, you know?"

"Well, it's not like we've got a whole lot of other options, right?" He pushed off the car and jingled his keyring toward her motorcycle. "All right, blondie, try and keep up."

\---

It only took another two days for him to stop scowling at her, after she zipped past him on the highway on the way to the coordinates she'd heard on the radio months and months ago. Sam recognized it in one of his maps as an old military base called Crystal Peak, but there was nothing there now, just another dead end filled with broken radio equipment.

"You could have kicked up gravel, dinged the paint job," Dean complained, finally. "That's all I'm saying."

\---

The days were getting shorter, the sun glinting off the ocean less and less each day. Buffy collected the weapons she'd been practicing with on the temporary range they'd set up behind the motel and headed back inside. The connecting door was open just a crack, enough for either side to hear if the other was in trouble.

Because she was feeling generous, Buffy pretended that Sam's whisper wasn't loud enough to carry all the way across their room and into hers. She kept packing her things so she'd be ready to go whenever Dean decided it was time to move on again.

"Okay," Sam said. It sounded like he was flipping pages in one of the millions of books Dean made him keep in cardboard boxes in the back seat of the Impala. "So, it says here that 'Into each generation a Slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight—'"

"Alone?" Dean scoffed. He didn't give a shit whether she heard him or not, obviously. "She wishes."

Buffy sighed and tightened the straps on her backpack. They'd been wandering steadily northward without any real destination in mind, until the night Sam woke them all in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking and shouting about Seattle.

"I don't get it, Sammy," Dean had said once they calmed him down and Buffy's heartbeat went back to normal. "Why are you dreaming about some dude in a box?"

"It's not a box," Sam said, exasperated. The dark circles under his eyes were getting worse the farther north they went. "It's more like, a— like a wooden phone booth, I guess?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, did the guy have, like, Beatles hair gone horribly wrong? And a friend with curly blond hair? Because they've already tried to get me in their little 'phone booth' and that is _not_ happening. We are not even going there."

Sam swore up and down that it wasn't those two, it was some other guy with a weird hat and an ugly sweater and eyes like a goldfish, or maybe a leather jacket and ears like a chimpanzee, and there was a lady with him, or maybe not.

"All right, fine," she agreed at last. "But if we get up there and those stoner perverts are waiting, don't think I won't leave you with them." She threw up her hands when Dean turned his angry face on her. "Kidding! Geez."

So here they were, inching up the 101 when Dean decreed it was safe enough to travel and hiding out in motel after motel when he said it wasn't. At the rate they were going, maybe they'd find Phone Booth Guy in time for Christmas. Not that there was anything like Christmas anymore — not that there was anything like _holidays_ anymore — but a girl could dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus mini-crossovers:   
> 1\. _Bill &amp; Ted's Excellent Adventure_   
> 2\. _The X-Files_  
> 3\. _Terminator 3_  
> 4\. _Doctor Who_


End file.
